


To Where Echoes Come To Rest

by amaimai



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dadtoki, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Rating May Change, characters relationships and other tags to be added accordingly, kamui's name is Invoked, mentions of past relationships - Freeform, ronin dads, set several months after rakujou arc, takasugi's slow recovery from the state of depression and mental breakdown shown in shoass arc, the story of how takasugi accidentally joins yorozuya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaimai/pseuds/amaimai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At last the long, rainy night is coming to an end for Shinsuke. Where to go and what to do are not things he knows just yet. Luckily, someone who tends to open paths for living comes by - with a family of three and the resolve of a stubborn duckling.</p>
<p>Alternative title: Takasugi Shinsuke's Road To Becoming a Responsible Dad, volume one</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odd Ends

Music, cheering, the smell of good alcohol, and his men's happy faces. Shinsuke didn't think he would ever be able to forget this night. It was warm and bright, and the tiniest stinge of nostalgia would hit him whenever he caught a glimpse of Gintoki or Zura in the crowd. It had been like that before, back when he could still see all of his comrades with both of his eyes. Before great battles, after said battles, sometimes for no reason at all other than boosting the morale. That night, though, none of those was the reason they gathered. That night they could go home. That was the last night of Kiheitai’s existence.  
  


He breathed in the atmosphere of happiness. It was a time of joy and he wanted to make the most of it. Their fight was over. All the speeches had been made, the official part had ended. All that was left was celebration. The next day they would all begin a new life, a life he was not sure he had any basis to start. When would he have the time to say his goodbyes to the previous one if not then?  
  


He poured himself another cup of sake, took a sip and closed his eye, enjoying the sounds around him. One of them stood out in particular, the one he was more familiar with than he'd care to admit. His right eye opened, searching for the voice’s owner. Not far away, a middle-aged man, Shinsuke recalls the government officials took his wife and daughter, was hugging Bansai's leg closely, clearly refusing to let go. He seemed to be crying. Bansai's pleads to be unhanded fell deaf on the man's ears. Shinsuke smiled. Moments like those were what he would miss the most.

  
After a few moments of struggling, Bansai managed to wriggle his way out of the man's grip. Said man hid his face in hands, shaking visibly, and Bansai kneelt by him, patting his back. Shinsuke watched them with fondness. Though awkward and quirky at times, Bansai had always been good at handling their men. Not many of them would have hung themselves at Shinsuke's limbs, though he did have had a drink with more than a few throughout the past several hours. He could have gone back to them instead of alienating himself in the part of the hall that was prepared for him, the leader, but that meant hearing Zura's awful singing and a possibility of accidentally starting another drinking competition with Gintoki. He was pretty sure he was nearing his limit at both.

  
Another sip of sake later, Bansai got up to walk towards Shinsuke. He was going to excuse himself and vanish early, like he always did. It was nice of him to stay that long in the first place, he thought. He stands up as well, embraces Bansai like a good friend that he would always be. When they parted after several seconds, he put his hand on Bansai's arm and gave it a little squeeze. A small gesture, yet just enough to make Bansai smile with understanding. It was fine. They weren’t saying goodbye forever, in fact they would likely see each other again the next morning during the process of removing their belongings from their last vessel, but the symbolism remained. It was their last night as a boss and a subordinate, and the first as just good old pals.

  
Bansai left, and not much time passed before Shinsuke noticed that he couldn't spot Zura between his men anymore. The hall was emptying slowly, now former terrorists exiting onto the streets of Yoshiwara. He didn't want this night it to end, not yet, not ever if possible. But it had to, and it would end quite soon. People kept disappearing and so did the content of his bottle. He could have had it refilled, hadn’t the familiar sense of dread in the back of his mind advised against it. All that was left for him was watching his most trusted subordinates leave one by one. He ordered it - they wouldn't set their feet outside otherwise. They’d instead keep fighting and dying for him, and he knew it to the very core of his bones. He had resolved to end this life. To let the anger and hatred that fueled these troops subside and die out. It was never supposed to be easy.

  
Having switched from sake to his kiseru, Shinsuke rose, shakily. He should greet his men this last time before they all go their ways, act like a leader on his final day of holding his position. The liquor didn’t make it easy. He didn't sway on his legs, it wasn’t that bad, but walking in a straight line without leaning against walls or people required conscious effort. Not the most dignified way to be remembered. True, anyone still present would be too drunk to notice, but that was no excuse. He walked forward, throwing a few nice words here and there to those few who still hadn't passed out or left yet.

  
A small tug to his kimono near his ankle halted his little round around the hall. Right. Then there was this guy. Shinsuke looked down at the shiny silver hair of the last man standing, who somehow managed to outdrink all of his soldiers yet again. He should have taken him on personally, even if just to cut him down to size.

  
"Takasugi-kun," Gintoki hummed, slurring and stretching out every syllable. Shinsuke sighed.

  
"What is it, Gintoki?" There was an urge to punch him in the face, solely to wipe out that stupid grin of his, but Shinsuke managed to overcome it. They were adults, after all. "Shouldn't you be going home to your kids?"

  
"Oh, come on, it's early! Sit down with us, end the dispute." He patted encouragingly the empty seat next to him. Shinsuke took a look at the rest of the hall, weighing his options. There weren't many people left who could possibly keep him company until the party ends completely, (as it would be extremely impolite of him to leave early,) and even less who could provide an entertainment. With another sigh, he took the seat offered to him, doing his best to ignore the way Gintoki's dumb smile widened slightly.

  
"So your subordinate here," Gintoki gestured at the man across the table, a young mechanic who used to take care of Shinsuke’s main battleship, "argues that my heart will most likely stop if I drink this."

  
Gintoki's hand pointed at the medium-sized pot that stood in the middle of the table, containing what Shinsuke assumed was an alcoholic drink of some sort, though the smell was rather sweet. It couldn't possibly be lethal, but countless attempts of poisoning, and the feasts he attended before the 7th Division left them taught him better than to doubt when someone says a drink could kill.

  
"So what is this, exactly?" He asked, dreading the answer.

  
"Well, Commander," the young man mumbled, "so last week when we had the, um, goodbye party for the Yato clansmen..."

  
That told Shinsuke pretty much all he needed to know. That and Gintoki's shit-eating grin.

  
"What's in it?" Shinsuke squinted at the beverage, remembering the one time he let Kamui fix him a drink and woke up 14 hours later, barely clothed and covered in blood that wasn't his, in a storage room of a ship he didn't remember boarding. At least the ship belonged to his fleet, and no corpses were found that morning.

  
"Two bottles of sake, one litre of vodka, three beers, a glass of moonshine, half a litre of raspberry syrup, and uh," the mechanic made a pause after reciting the ingredients on one breath - searching for the last one, Shinsuke guessed. "And one litre of probably the strongest energy drink in this part of the galaxy. The 7th Division left us quite a supply."

  
Shinsuke swallowed. Gintoki's grin looked like someone pulled the skin of his face behind his head. There was a challenge in his eyes, obviously, hiding under the silver bangs. They were adults and it was a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

  
He should get up and walk away. But on the other hand all of his men were drunk senseless, that was the last night he could be irresponsible and get away with it, his moral compass had been drowned in sake, and he never had much to lose to begin with.

  
"I hope you're aware some of us have already built up a resistance to Yato drinks, Gintoki."

  
And it was on.

  
White teeth shined between Gintoki's lips as he reached for an empty teacup at the corner of the table, and glanced around the room, looking for another one. He fetched it from a table to his left, swaying slightly on his feet, and sat back comfortably. Luckily, the mechanic stopped Gintoki’s hand just before his fingers touched the pot. Shinsuke studied the hesitation on young man's face. _This really is a bad idea._ But there was no going back now. The mechanic poured the poison into the first teacup, filling only a half of it. Once he glanced up, Gintoki's glare was enough to keep him pouring. Shinsuke didn’t know he was grinning himself, not until his eyes met Gintoki’s.

  
"As if you were ever any good at holding your liquor," Gintoki hummed, grabbing his cup and sliding it closer.

  
"Want me to call you a cab? Though passing out on the street fits you just right." Shinsuke replied calmly, sliding his own cup towards the mechanic, wordlessly asking for it be filled to the brims.

  
"Come on, Takasugi. You're slurring your words. Are you sure that tiny body of yours can take it?" He leaned in, almost spewing into Shinsuke's face. Gintoki's breath was warmer than he had remembered.

  
"You're slurring more than I do. And you'd be surprised with how much this body can take in." He hissed back, and it took him a second to notice that his body had moved closer on its own accord. With the corner of his eye he saw the mechanic scurry away, but that was the least important thing at that moment.

  
"You're really confident for someone who could barely keep up with me back then."

  
"Overestimating yourself again, aren't you? If someone had troubles keeping up, that would be you, Gintoki." He lifted his cup with a taunting smile, waiting for the other man to do the same.

  
He was not disappointed. Their cups clinked and a smug smile danced on Gintoki's lips, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction beneath the silver strands. "What are we waiting for?"

  
"For you to remember how many wins it will be once you choke yourself on this thing."

  
"There's only one thing I would be willing to choke on and it has nothing to do with the alcohol." He then proceeded to gulp down most of his liquor in one go, and put the teacup down with a loud clank. It was clearly a challenge and there was only one thing Shinsuke could do to beat him.

  
"Very well. I was hoping to kill you myself, but that's a fitting death for you," he hissed at Gintoki, who was visibly swaying in his seat. And with that, Shinsuke lifted his cup to his lips and allowed the abomination to swim down his throat and down to his stomach. He regretted it immediately, as his vision darkened for a few seconds, sudden dizzyness threatening to make him throw up right there and then. Through the haze, he could hear Gintoki's snickering.

  
The only thing that kept him from collapsing on the suddenly alluring surface of the table was his sheer willpower. He could hear Gintoki's laughter dying out, though it might as well have been the pounding in his ears drowning it out. He was leaning against the table with one hand, he realized. Most of his remaining strength being funneled into his arm is all it took to raise his upper half and look Gintoki in the eyes.

  
"That's 252 wins."

  
Gintoki squinted, making Shinsuke wonder how many of him the White Demon must have been seeing right then. The man leaned in, suddenly taking up all of Shinsuke's vision. He was close, too close but it was not like either of them could move back at that point.

  
"But this is juuuust the beginning, Takasugi-kun." Gintoki moved away, gulped down what little of his alcohol had been left in the glass, and reached out to pour more. In the end there was more of the deadly liquor on the table than in the cups, but that had never stopped them before. Shinsuke knew this was going to be a long night.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The morning came with the sensation of a relatively soft pillow under Shinsuke's head and something ticklish on his neck, other than his bandage. Still in a haze, he breathed in deeply a few times before he responsibly decided to open his eyes. His head was pounding and the world was spinning, all that happening even before he moved. Shinsuke decided to lie for a few seconds, and assess his environment. A room he didn't recognize. Wooden floor that hadn't been cleaned in at least a week. Faint rays of light falling into the room through the window. Even fainter smell of curry and really cheap cologne. And strawberries.

  
He moved, slowly, towards the edge of the futon he was lying in. His legs were tangled up in something, the violet silk of his own kimono greeting him once he looked down. It seemed almost odd to wake up in an unknown location while still fully clothed and only slightly disheveled. A miracle Shinsuke was not going to question. Especially knowing whose breath he felt on his neck only moments ago.

  
It took minutes of careful wriggling towards the floor until Shinsuke decided he could sit without waking up his host in the process. The sun was still low, with sunlight grazing his skin gently without burning his eyes out, so it couldn't have been very late. Upon a squint, the old alarm clock next to the futon assured him he was right. Something in the back of his head, next to the source of the dull pulsing, told him the world was not going to stop swirling anytime soon. He could still pull it off, he thought. He could get up and walk out and pretend he was never there, that the smell of strawberries wasn't what he woke up to...

  
A sudden tug on his kimono, just below his hip, halted this train of thought. His heart pounding, Shinsuke turned slowly, praying to every holy entity he could recall for Gintoki to remain asleep. Apparently, his prayers were answered. The way his ribs rose and fell sluggishly with every steady breath was convincing enough, and Shinsuke quickly found the source of the sudden movement in the tiny wrinkle between Gintoki's eyebrows. What was he dreaming about? Shinsuke frowned at himself, just before shifting slightly in his seat. It was the haze, the alcohol his system hadn't filtered out yet, he would tell himself. The haze made him extend his fingers carefully, holding his sleeve with the other hand, towards the mess of white hair. His hand hung in the air just a few centimeters above Gintoki's head. Ten years ago he could have ran his fingers through the colorless locks, hell, he could have shaved him bald and Gintoki wouldn't wake up. Has he, too, become a light sleeper? The past decade took the gift of peaceful slumber from himself, it was likely that Gintoki experienced it at least to some extent.

  
He withdrew his hand and took another breath. In one smooth, albeit not quick at all, movement Shinsuke lifted himself from the futon. While straightening his kimono and fastening his belt, his eyes searched for the haori he vaguely remembered wearing last night. There was nothing of the kind in the room - and it would have been extremely easy to spot against the bright floor and rather modest furniture. Out it was. Walking quietly _and_ in a straight line proved to be a bit more challenging than Shinsuke had imagined it to be. Then again, what did he expect.

  
He opened the door, as quietly as he could manage, to what he guessed would be either a corridor or the living room leaning against the door frame with one shoulder. He recognized the space that opened before him as the living room - mostly thanks to a TV to his left and a desk right next to it. His haori was resting safely on the sofa in the far end of the room, as expected. What he didn't expect was a giant ball of white fur snoring behind it.

  
Several blinks, two eye rubs, and a whole lot of squinting later, the furry ball was still remaining where it was. Right. He had a dog. And Gintoki keeping his enormous dog _in his house_ , as opposed to somewhere a normal owner would keep it, say, _outside_ was apparently a natural thing. Having blamed his temporary confusion on the alcohol, Shinsuke proceeded to walk towards the haori, and by extension, the sleeping animal. It seemed that he left all of his luck in the previous room, as the dog opened his eyes, observing Shinsuke with its sleepy eyes.

  
Shinsuke stared back, unable to take any more of this unnecessary introduction. He was tired. He was mildly annoyed. He was fully capable of cutting down anyone who could possibly stand on his way - or would be, if it weren't for the fact that his weapon was nowhere to be found. The hazy recollection of leaving it (dropping, really) somewhere near the haori dawned on him as soon as he spotted the soft gloss of the sheath. Right under the dog's belly. Heglared at the dog, silently hoping that will be enough for the animal to politely move. But it was to no avail. Seconds of glaring became minutes, and soon Shinsuke realized he was risking being present when Gintoki wakes. He decided to change his course of action and proceeded to grab his haori in the most nonchalant way he could possibly achieve in this state. _This is just a dog,_ he reminded himself. Just a really big dog that could probably wake up everyone in Kabuki district. The hilt of the sword was, unfortunately, burried deep under its belly - he needed to get it out in a sweeping motion to avoid sliding out the blade and hurting Gintoki's pet. That would not be an easy task.

  
A silent breath, and he was crouching, grabbing the sheathe to slide it out in the most delicate way. A second later a pair of jaws was tightening around his head, warm liquid running down his neck.

  
It took him a few moments to process the fact that he was being chewed on. He wasn't in pain, not in particular, considering his head was already being torn apart before. He wasn’t comfortable either, but that was a given, considering the situation. Surprisingly, breathing wasn't impossible - in fact, if he weren't kind of in a hurry, he probably wouldn't mind having his head bit off. Unfortunately, he was in a hurry. At last, it dawned on him that with its mouth clasped around Shinsuke's neck, the dog was in no position to bark. The one upside. He slid the sword out from under the animal, and put it behind his belt. He now had one free arm and a whole lot of blood on his shoulders. _This is fine,_ he told himself. Ignoring the jaws munching on him for the time being, Shinsuke put his haori on and straightened it out, hoping it looked presentable. Only then did he devote his attention to freeing himself. Surprisingly, dissappointingly even, as soon as Shinsuke put his hands on its jaws, the dog gave up the newly-found toy with little to no resistance. He then slid his head out of the pet's mouth and crawled back, suddenly dizzy and feeling his stomach stir.

  
He decided he needed few deep breaths, to ensure he wasn't going to vomit onto himself or trip and wake Gintoki. Then a few more. The saliva on his face and the smell of dog breath weren't helping. Finally, he crawled towards the nearest wall, and got to his feet holding onto the tattered wallpaper a support. Finding the bathroom, or at least a sink would be a gift from heavens, but he mentally prepared himself for leaving the house with his face dirty, his body dying of thirst and disgust with its current state. A step into the corridor and he saw his salvation: the kitchen. The room wasn't big, nor particularly tidy, but there was a sink. A sink. With water. Shinsuke nearly cried out of happiness.

  
He beelined (or at least he hoped he did) for the metal frame from heaven and felt the tap under his right hand. The water ran down with the sound that only running water in the ears of man who just realized he is in fact still drunk can make. He put his fingers under it, to experience a revival. Cold. Wet. A blessing has been bestowed upon him. He hadn't realized the true extent of his thirst until that very moment. There weren't any glasses out in the open, and he didn't feel like looking and making any more noise than he likely already had. Without thinking he put his head under the stream, hoping both to cool himself down and to drink some. His mouth tasted with rot and water was not going to change that. The cold liquid traveled down his throat, into his stomach, filling it to brims. Then something moved. Something inside of him wasn't quite content with this turn of events. Before he realized it, Shinsuke turned his face down, staining the dull shine of the sink with bile diluted by the water. He ate quite a lot last night so he must have vomited earlier, wherever he went between the last thing he remembered, which was a pot of pure poison, and waking up with Gintoki beside him. That had to wait. For now he was glad he wouldn't have to pick any undigested leftovers out of the sink.

  
He wouldn't dare turn off the water, not for as long as it partially drowned out the noises of him gagging (even though he did his best to stay as quiet as possible). His knees seemed eager to give up under his weight, and every breath requied tremendous strength. Shinsuke regretted. He regretted the bet. Regretted being in Gintoki's house. Unfortunately, there was very little he could do about it. A few sips of water between emptying his stomatch kept him awake and conscious, but only the barely registered, oddly familiar footsteps brought the painful realization of how vulnerable he was. He tried to straighten himself, reflexively reaching for his sword, only to hit his head against the tap.

  
"Don't leave a mess later, yes?"

The steps faded into the room further away, and it took Shinsuke a few seconds to process that neither the pitched voice he had just heard, nor the light footsteps belonged to Gintoki. He knew the voice. It wasn't a stranger, he must have met this person, and-

  
Oh.

  
With one swift movement he removed his head from the sink. His hand washed promptly the cold metal, just before cutting off the water. He then proceeded to turn back to the corridor and walked out of the kitchen, spying for his sandals. His sandals were nowhere to be seen. A sigh escaped his mouth. Well then. Still barefooted, he promptly moved towards the front door, and breathed out with relief finding it unlocked. The door came open under a delicate touch, and slid back closed without any resistance or unnecessary noises tearing the fresh, chilly air. He was free.

  
Or at least he would like to think so. He looked down from the balcony, only to see a nearly completely empty street. There was an elderly lady sweeping the ground in front of a store a few blocks away, a store he assumed belonged to her. A man making his way slowly down the street, looking like last night was just as rough to him as it was to Shinsuke. A young girl taking out the trash right below his feet. Likely at least an acquaintance of Gintoki's. Alright. All he had to do was to not kill himself on the stairs to his left and to not show that his feet were bare.

  
Speed was the key to everything.

  
He started walking towards the stairs, using the balustrade as a support, and lowered his left foot onto the first step, then the right onto the second, and so on, until he stood at the ground. It went surprisingly smooth, so smooth he had to take a few seconds to realize he was in fact holding his breath. It was a miracle he hadn't tumbled down. But it was not time to wallow in this unexpected victory.

  
There was undeniably a girl behind him, probably judging him. Shinsuke didn't risk looking at her. He walked, as straight as he could, as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. He heard her voice, calling behind him. His ears fished the word "shortcut" out of the steady stream of noise that he tried to drown out with his own breaths. Scratch that. He had to run. The main street was his goal, he could catch a taxi, disappear there somehow, just get away from this place. Get away from the smell of strawberries on his own clothes.

  
  


* * *

  
  
"Join me."

  
"For the last time, Zura, absolutely no."

  
The afternoon sun was shining relentlessly, and the dull pounding in the back of Shinsuke's head stubbornly refused to leave him alone. So did Katsura. Moving what little personal belongings Shinsuke had from his vessel to a car that Bansai had prepared for him was hard as it was, without Zura standing over him with Jouishishi leaflets. _Leaflets._ Honestly. Shinsuke could swear Zura was getting more and more desperate as years passed, though the man in question kept brushing it off as "adapting to the times" and "catering to the younger generation". With leaflets seemingly designed to resemble those Shinsuke had once received from an amanto health clinic - Kamui's courtesy and an illuminating lecture on the most common STDs in this part of the galaxy.

  
"You can take a man out of terrorism, but you can't take a terrorist out of a man!" Zura kept jabbering, as he had for the past half an hour. He could at least make himself useful and carry a box or two. Shinsuke was convinced he was only taking so long because of Zura's persistent, unbearable presence. And the headache. And the fact that the day before he had insisted on taking care of his belongings himself, reluctant to take even Bansai's help. It would be rather unsightly to go back on that now, no matter how bad he felt.

  
Obviously, by the time he had arrived to the shipbay, most of his things were packed (a courtesy of Matako's) and partially moved to the car (nobody admitted to that, but Shinsuke knew it when Bansai was looking out for him). Shinsuke was grateful for that, having come to the shipbay feeling like someone hit his head with a baseball bat, his feet weary after a long, barefooted walk through the streets of Edo. He could talk about severing the chain of command all he wanted, but his people would still take care of him. Even now his temporary goal was one of the safehouses he had prepared a long time ago, for Kiheitai as a whole. As if he was ever going to shake off his status of a leader. He smiled at that thought, barely. And Zura kept rattling on.

  
"Say, Zura, didn't you lose your Renho companion somewhere on the way here? Shouldn't you look for them?" _And how the hell are you not dying of a hangover right now,_ he didn't say. Zura could hold his liquor as well as any other man, but the true mystery was always the morning after, when everyone woke up dead inside, only to see The Nobleman of Fury fixing a nutritious breakfast.

  
"Elizabeth is currently running errands, which have completely no connection with you joining the Jouishishi. Look, we even have a health insurance!" Zura pointed at some underlined bullet point on the leaflet he was holding, and Shinsuke looked away with a sigh.

  
He walked over to the car, put the box in, and readied himself mentally for the last trip. The massive headache wasn't going easy on him. There was only one box left, one that didn't even really belong to him, but the owner of the items inside could be trying to get himself killed in some remote corner of the Milky Way for all Shinsuke knew, and he was never one for throwing out a set of perfectly good sex toys. Zura didn't have to know that.

  
"And I'm sure you've got a thing or two to do yourself. Go away already," he urged, turning back to Zura and leaning his lower back against the car. Shinsuke's voice was only barely hoarse with last night's experiences, but what didn't show in his tone surely showed in his eyes and dark circles under his eyes. He hoped it would be enough to eventually convince Zura to leave him alone, at least for the rest of the day.

  
"I made sure to clear my schedule for today." Of course it wasn't.

  
He sighed, again, and just when he opened his mouth to try and send Zura away for the fiftieth time that day, he froze in his tracks.

  
"Nobody is joining your stupid country club, Zura." The low, way too familiar voice cut through the air. His throat audibly hoarse, hair more disheveled than usually, eyes just as dead as they should be given last night's circumstances, Gintoki bore all the signs of a man dragged outside against his will when he should be recovering. Shinsuke almost clicked his tongue catching a glimpse of white fabric far behind him.

  
"It's not a country club, it's a terrorist organization. And it's not Zura, it's Katsura."

  
"Yeah, yeah, nobody cares," Gintoki half-yawned. "You can go now, Zura. I'll take it from here."

  
"Take what from here?" Shinsuke hissed.

  
"The babysitting session. Got anything left in that flying cart of yours?" He scratched his head, and a few strands of his silver hair fell onto his face.

  
Shinsuke frowned.

  
"As a matter of fact, I do. Please leave, both of you." Pushing himself away from the car, he began walking back towards the footbridge. Gintoki, his little finger obnoxiously digging its way towards his brain, followed. It took several seconds for Shinsuke to realize he's not going to leave. He then stopped, and turned back.

  
"Which part of "leave" is unclear to you?" He was squinting at Gintoki, partially because of the sun, partially because this was no time for bullshit. He was busy and he was fed up.

  
In turn, Gintoki, whose eternal impression of a dead feline seemed to be immune to bright light even when hungover, politely pulled his finger out of his nose.

  
"But I'm here to help."

  
"I don't care. Go, and take Zura with you," Shinsuke ignored Zura correcting his name in the background. "He's been following me around all day, the daycare is closing right now."

  
He then resumed his walk and proceeded to get onto the vessel. He made sure to say his goodbyes to his now barren sleeping room. To the closets that used to hold weapons. To the small windows he used to look at the nebulas in the distance as he fell asleep. To the bed that saw more than it should have. Way more. Shinsuke grabbed the last, tightly sealed box that had rested in the darkest corner of his closet before it was so shamelessly dragged out (Bansai, no doubts, and in good faith, likely before the contents of the closet traumatized him). Some things, he thought, should remain in the closet.

  
Just as he was about to step over the treshold, his eyes met a steady, determined gaze.

  
"So can we talk?" Asked Gintoki.

  
He sighed, trying to go around the newly arised obstacle. Unfortunately, said obstacle made a step whenever he tried to avoid it, like the giant, muscular, adult three years old that Gintoki apparently was.

  
"Do we really have to?" Shinsuke hissed at last, glaring.

  
"Kind of, yeah." Gintoki replied, his eyes unwavering, like he came here with a clear goal in mind. Shinsuke had a certain idea of what that goal could be and had no intention of letting him achieve it. Both because it would cause him inconvenience, and just for the sake of it.

  
"We aren't terribly good at talking things through, in case you haven't noticed." Shinsuke decided to keep his calm - which required pushing out of his mind the objects stuffed in the box and the weak duct tape that held the bottom part of the carton together.

  
"And how well has that been working out for us for the past decade?" There was something about how Gintoki's eyes looked dead at all times, aside from the few moments when it mattered. "Look, can you just..." There was something in them. Something in his gaze, in the way he looked to the side, the way his sweaty hands were inches from forming fists, the way he seemed nearly vulnerable even though Shinsuke knew not even an army would be enough to bring this man down.

  
"Takasugi, can you just hear me out?"

  
There was hope.

  
Shinsuke blinked a few times, not at his words or the tone of an actual request, but at the realization he had just arrived at. For once this complete fool wasn't confident. He didn't come to conquer or die trying. He came to plead. That was a first.

  
A second of surprise was enough to hesitate, enough not to turn him down immediately. If he was going to beg for forgiveness, Shinsuke could beat the everloving fuck out of him. He wouldn't, obviously, but a man can dream. A chance was all he was asking for. He could always refuse whatever Gintoki was going to ask for.

  
"Fine. May I leave this in the car now? It could tear apart any minute now." He had to relocate one of his forearms under the bottom of the box to take away at least a part of its weight from the tattered duct tape. He was half-expecting the box to start vibrating by now. Miraculously, it wasn't. _Yet,_ Shinsuke thought as he squinted at the box.

  
Gintoki finally took a hint and moved out of the way, only to follow silently down the silver hallway. Their steps, as soft as they were, still echoed against the metal walls. Out of the line of sight, Gintoki still seemed omnipresent to Shinsuke. At least by walking in the front he couldn't smell the strawberries. If he tried really hard not to breathe in with his nose, that is.

  
After every second spent in the dark space of the nearly deserted ship, the sunlight awaited them. Shinsuke did what any honorable former reader would do, which was pushing his nausea and headache deep into the back of his mind and walking out like it was just any other day. On his way to the car, to his surprise, he discovered that Zura has apparently fled the perimeters. At last. He would even allow himself for a small sigh of relief, if it weren't for the pair of dead eyes probably drilling holes in his back at that very moment.

  
"Oh? So Zura _did_ give up in the end." Or probably not. Shinsuke could nearly picture Gintoki's relaxed expression as he had looked around, spying for any long, dark, straight hairstyle, and the movement of his lips as this remark had been was formed.

  
"So it seems. I hope you'll do the same once we're done talking," Shinsuke replied, making his final steps towards the trunk of his relocation limousine. A Toyota, actually, and an old one, with an open trunk, just fine for the purpose it was to serve. He saw Gintoki yawn with the corner of his eye. Shinsuke surpressed a smile before it appeared on his face, and, leaning his arm and back against the car, turned to face the ol' good White Demon.

  
"So?" He inquired.

  
"So," echoed Gintoki, clearly still scrambling his thoughts together. He was lucky Shinsuke was a patient man. Perhaps that was the sole reason he allowed himself this pause. It was fine. He could wait. Time was the one thing he had more enough on his hands after all.

  
Shinsuke decided to use these few minutes to examine his interlocutor, as he hadn't had a moment, nor an ounce of the brain capacity, to do so in the morning. His messy hair shimmered softly in the autumn sun, as it always has. One could say he looked more disheveled than usually, but one would have to be unfamiliar with the man Gintoki was. Permanent bed-hair was nothing unusual in his case. Neither were the bags under his eyes, though significantly large, nearly matching the one under Shinsuke's eye. No, saying he looked bad was pulling punches. Gintoki looked like shit, and Shinsuke had no delusions about how awful he must look too. It had been a while since he saw a mirror other than those in the car bahind him.

  
"Okay, so I just want you to hear me out," Gintoki started, calmly. His shirt was crumpled near the edges. "And gave me your reply once I'm done," there was a bruise on his neck, just below the line of his collar. "That fine with you?"

  
He blinked slowly.

  
"Yes."

  
"So where are you going now?" He asked, catching Shinsuke off-guard.

  
"Wasn't I supposed to hear you out first and respond later?" A counter after a second of silence, just enough for him to pick up, Shinsuke knew.

  
"Just answer me, asshat."

  
He pondered his options, both regarding the reply and his plan of action from then on, all while holding Gintoki's questioning gaze. He then realized that in neither of those departaments did he have any suitable options. All that remained, he understood painfully, was what he had only found himself capable of several weeks ago. Honesty. He exhaled.

  
"Nowhere."

  
Gintoki was quiet.

  
And just like that, the morning had no meaning at all, nor did the night before, or the nights earlier, because all that Shinsuke had now was that one dreadful word. There was no plan. There was a safehouse, yes, dozens of people willing to take him in, but no grand scheme. Not this time. Not for him. He threw away it all, like Kamui did before him, like sensei did over a decade earlier, albeit in a more responsible way.

  
It hadn't quite felt so real before.

  
He searched for something in Gintoki's eyes, anything he could have expected or understood. Pity. Compassion, perhaps. Ridicule, though he knew he wouldn't find it, because it was _him_. Confusion. Disappointment. Resignation (which, again, would never be there). He found none of those. Only the familiar sense of determination.

  
Ironic, how yet again the realest thing in his world was Gintoki's stubborn, continued existence.

  
How many moments passed as they were staring at each other - measuring, searching, assessing their chances - he didn't know. All he knew was that the moment was severed with a tiny slip of his hand, giving up under his own weight. The car being sent into the slightest swing which must have been just enough to move a switch and-

  
Buzzing. Buzzing from a box. He knew this day would come the moment Kamui started assembling his little collection and keeping it in Shinsuke's bedroom instead of his own.

  
"Is that-"

  
"It's nothing," Shinsuke cut off Gintoki before he had the chance to ask. "Nothing of importance."

  
Gintoki grinned. "Oh? Takasugi, I didn't know you were into that kind of things-"

_  
"It's a toy car that someone left me,"_ said Shinsuke, putting more and more force into each and every word. "Is that a satisfying explanation, you walking ball of pubes?"

  
"A _toy_ huh?" Just the smug grin on his face was enough to make Shinsuke want to punch him, and yet he just _had_ to use that mocking tone of his. "Well, it sure is one hell of a toy car. A car of toys. _Toy Car_. Make sure to tell me what size should I get you for birthday."

  
Shinsuke took a deep breath, fighting back against the instinct to knee him in the face, only because they were now in broad daylight. He would have done that without a second thought if they were still back on the ship. What a shame.

  
"So," Shinsuke exhaled, trying to compose himself. "What is your point?"

  
"...Are you just going to keep that thing on?"

  
"It's a _toy car_."

  
Gintoki squinted.

  
"Fine, can we at least walk away from your 'toy car'?" He made a point of using his fingers for the mock quotation sign. "This is kind of serious."

  
"Agreed."

  
Shinsuke pushed himself away from the car, and started walking further from his vessel, towards the shallow part of the ship bay. They walked in silence for a few minutes, neither daring to look the other in the eye. He caught Gintoki inhale in an unusual pattern a few times though, like he was preparing to speak, only to let go of the thought he had. Shinsuke waited. He had all the time in the world. At least until the police would find him.

  
It nearly startled him when Gintoki stopped abruptly. He faced him, bracing himself mentally for whatever he was about to say.

  
"Hey, Takasugi." He wasn't looking at him. Though his red eyes were concealed under the silver strands of his bangs, he could still tell that much.

  
"What is it?" Shinsuke regretted he hadn't taken his kiseru with him. He regretted he couldn't have something familiar to grip in his hand, be it a pipe or a sword hilt. Both of those were resting safely in the car.

  
It only took a fraction of second for Gintoki to move, to look at him, to give him the human decency of facing his only defence, prosecutor and judge.

  
In Gintoki's eyes two things were clearer than the moon on a cloudless night. Shinsuke's reflection, and an infinite universe of shining stars and vast galaxies, opening up to swallow him whole.

  
"Stay with me, Takasugi."


	2. A Swallow's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day begins as the new tennant gingerly moves in to the Yorozuya headquaters. Acquaintances are made and first impressions - erased.
> 
> Shinsuke hopes he won't regret saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw btw, the recovering takasugi au idea belongs to my dear friend Seere, also I blatantly stole a joke from her and put it here. Sorry Seere.

"Gintoki, throw another box like that and I'm throwing this one straight into your face."

A challenging glint shined in Gintoki's squinting eyes as he half-heartedly dropped the box he was holding under his other arm onto the couch, just like he did with the previous one. Shinsuke wasn't sure what was breaking in the box as he lunged it across the room, towards his newly acquired host's face. Nothing was quite as satisfying as a complete idiot getting hit with a box full of heavy items. Even if the price was said items.

"Are you _serious_?" A voice came from under a pile of scented candles that spilled from the box. Why Shinsuke possessed scented candles was beyond him.

"Empty threats are not exactly my thing," he replied, nearly surprised to hear amusement in his own tone.

"Can you _please_ drop it for at least two seconds and actually help?" Shinpachi struggled with the two boxes he was holding, one on top of the other. Shinsuke promptly took both of them, before the boy could protest. How did he not fall off the stairs carrying thoselike that?

"Thank you, Takasugi-san," Shinpachi smiled. What a good kid.

"You hear the boy, Takasugi? Stop throwing things and start helping," said Gintoki, lifting himself from the floor.

"I was talking to you, Gin-san."

"Hey, he threw the box!"

"You started it! You've been at it all morning!" The boy sighed, exasperated. How in the world had he been dealing with this mess of a man for the past heaven-knows-how-long. Shinsuke didn't know, but he sure was impressed. "Can you just stop picking fights and start carrying things?" Shinpachi continued. "You were the one who insisted on bringing them all here in the first place."

"You hear the boy, Gintoki?" Shinsuke repeated, nearly grinning. "By the way, I'm not cleaning that up," he added as Shinpachi walked out to get more boxes.

"You come into my house..."

"You invited me. Less than 24 hours ago."

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up already."

The morning was warm, and the operation of relocating Shinsuke was going swiftly. The kids were helping after all. He could never fully comprehend the amount of strength Kagura had to possess to lift all these things at the same time. She could probably just take the car and throw it into the house. Her brother would likely do just that. Her brother wasn't here and nobody was going to bring that up.

The sibling that was present, however, was Shinpachi's older sister. Shinsuke wasn't sure why she came by, but she did, and brought a black substance of unknown origin with her. Tamagoyaki, she called it. Never before had he missed Bansai's cooking so much in his life, and with the amount of kitchen utensils Bansai has set on fire throughout his career that accounted for something. Otae was a beautiful woman. One glance was enough to tell. She never walked in upstairs, nor did she have the chance to be introduced to Shinsuke - Otae merely came by to drop the _breakfast_ for her brother. He only saw her when he was coming inside with another bundle of his not so treasured belongings. He guessed they would have a chance to make a contact in the future, but for now all he knew about her was that her beauty was enough to capture the heart of a certain Shinsengumi official, and that she was never, ever to be allowed to cook. 

He missed his ship already, he thought as he tried to push another box into the large closet in Gintoki's room. With a crew of two energetic children, one lazy manbaby,and Shinsuke himself, unpacking the car hadn't taken long. This was the part that did. Gintoki came out of hiding as soon as Otae was gone. Shinpachi and Kagura were chatting about how they wished they could get better looking snacks (and somehow Shinpachi ended up promising to cook a tuna sometime that week). 

"This one is full too", he declared, barely closing the door. He didn't need most of these things - sending them to his hideout in Kyo wouldn't have been a problem. Except Gintoki insisted. As if keeping all of his things in this house could in some way prolong Shinsuke's stay.

"Same with this one," came a reply. Surprisingly, Gintoki was capable of making himself useful. "There's another one under Kagura's bed... How many do we have left, two?"

"Three, if you cleaned up that one box by the couch."

"So two. Yeah, you can put them in."

A pause.

"Gintoki."

"Yeah?"

"You have no intention of cleaning that up, do you?"

"Nope."

Shinsuke frowned and made a mental note to gather the candles later only to throw them at Gintoki one by one, until the nightfall.

He rose and walked out of the room, mimicking his track from the day before. This time, luckily, his sense of balance was on point and his stomach wasn't threatening to eject its contents. The remaining boxes rested safely on the couch. Shinsuke ignored them for the time being, making a beeline to the closet. He swung the door open, dropping to his knees to inspect the space inside. 

And froze.

A second passed. Two, five, a dozen, and a dozen more perhaps. And he couldn't stop staring inside, dumbfounded.

"Gintoki," he managed at last, making sure his tone was completely flat.

"What?" There was a note of annoyance in his voice, and Shinsuke would pick up the silent challenge it posed if the situation was any different. If.

"Gintoki." A breath. "Why is there a man living in your closet?"

Silence followed.

The man in the closet shivered, his face white, and only then did it occur to Shinsuke that he might have been glaring at him for the past minute or so. It was fine to keep glaring, he decided.

"So remember when I said you're free to throw out anything that's in there?" Gintoki was now standing in the threshold, likely staring into the closet as well. Shinsuke didn't have to look around to be able to tell. Nor did he have to see Gintoki's face to guess his expression would be similar to the disgust on his own face.

He got up and took a step back, assessing. He turned around to the couch, and took the sword that was hidden behind the boxes. A flash, and the blade was drawn. A move of his wrist, and the man in sunglasses, very much homeless from the looks of it, crawled out of the closet, scrambled to his feet, and ran for the door with all his strength.

 

* * *

 

"Stay with me, Takasugi."

There was a flash in his eye, like every time Gin had caught him off-guard before. A mix of surprise and hesitation bloomed on his face, even though, Gin guessed, Takasugi did his best to conceal it. The moment was oddly serious, the pressure too great. His gaze too captivating. _Don't. Do not do the stupid_ , he told himself, though the urge was great.

The afternoon sun was getting lower, and he tried to focus on that. Gin looked at the sky, away from the light dancing in Takasugi's hair ruffled by the breeze. He should have held the eye contact for more than 5 seconds. He should have kept looking at him, waiting for his reply. He should have done a lot of things differently, but the past was in the past, and right then his heart was racing with anxiety. 

"Why would I?" He replied at last, and Gintoki let out a breath he never noticed he was holding. 

It wasn't a 'no'.

Takasugi was honest for once, with both Gin and himself, and Gin knew how much it must have taken. Honesty was never Takasugi's forte when it came to himself. Gintoki was glad, so glad he took this path after all. All that remained was telling the truth.

"I want to" _protect you_. "Suck your dick."

He did the stupid.

There was a pause. 

A very awkward one, that is to say.

"I'm leaving right now," Takasugi said at last, turning back and actually attempting to leave.

"No, look, I'm sorry!" Gin yelled after him. "I didn't mean to- Okay I did, just listen! Please!"

He reached out to grab his arm. As soon as his hand secured a grip, Takasugi swung his arm, dragging Gintoki forward. Closer. If his steel gaze could drill holes, Gin's head would have been hollowed. Though it apparently had been hollow beforehand, reflexively getting himself into this situation.

"You've got ten seconds." That said, Takasugi waited. There wasn't going to be another chance.

"Two weeks," Gintoki responded.

Another pause. Takasugi sighed.

"I don't know what game you're trying to play but-"

"Stay with me for two weeks," he asked. "At my place, sharing my table. You can consider yourself a guest or whatever else you'd like." He looked him in the eye, determined to keep him. It was the least he could do.

Takasugi yanked his arm free, frowning. There was no better way to go about this, probably. It had to be his decision if Gin and Zura's little plan of keeping an eye on Takasugi was to work. He studied the features of Takasugi's face, waiting for a sign. Anything at all. His lips being pressed together with slightly more pressure than usually, meaning he was going to answer. A glance to the side, picking carefully his next words. A challenging look - consent to whatever he just proposed. None of them came. Instead, Takasugi's face remained painfully empty, both of them silent. A second of it, a second of distraction was enough for Gintoki to start losing himself in the delicate, yet refined line of Takasugi's jaw. The line of his neck. His collarbones. _Stop. Stop it right there._

He concluded, in his mind, that Takasugi looked miraculously good for the mess that he was the night before, (or, more likely, several hours before,) and that was it. Just before he went back to pressuring Takasugi with his steel, most determined look, the man spoke.

"Two weeks. Make them count."

 

* * *

 

"So that's the friend you mentioned?" The old lady asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Shinsuke was just in the middle of pushing the final box into the newly cleared space in the closet when she spoke. She certainly did not startle him. He tried not to show his surprise. Yes. Surprise. 

"Yeah, that's the guy!" Gintoki confirmed, yelling from his room.

He got to his feet calmly, taught better than to greet and introduce himself to new people while sitting on the ground in a circle of dust bunnies.

"Good morning," he said with a faint smile.

"Morning indeed."

"I’m sorry for not coming downstairs to introduce myself," Shinsuke’s hand slid itself into his kimono nonchalantly. "The bar was closed, I thought I could drop by sometime around the nightfall."

"That's fine," she smiled widely. It was a warm smile, and a polite one, that of a person who's used to taking care of people. Hard not to smile back. "I'd be surprised if you came. Just wanted to see who the new folk is."

"Still, that's not terribly nice, and I seem to have missed an early banquet with a wonderful lady." He nodded slightly. "Takasugi Shinsuke."

This was the name he was being hunted under by the police force of ten countries of three separate planets and a band of interplanetary pirates.

The woman merely giggled, like a young girl would. Endearing, in a way.

"Pleasure to meet you. Otose." And with that, they were acquaintances. She smelled with cigarettes and incense. A deceased husband, he guessed. "We're not going to exchange business cards next, are we?"

"Unfortunately, I seem to have left mine in one of these boxes."

"That's too bad, I could use the phone number of such a handsome, charming young man." Otose smiled at him, then shifted against the doorframe to look behind Shinsuke, at the door to the room Gintoki was currently in. "Too bad none of those seem to have lived here up until now!"

"Shut up, old hag!" Came a reply. There was no follow-up. Otose sighed.

"Where are the kids anyway?"

"Clearly not inside," Gintoki said. "I don't know, maybe they went to Shinpachi's place, give back the lunch boxes Otae stored that atrocity in."

Shinsuke used this occasion to clean off the dust that had gathered on his kimono, lightly patting the fabric.

"By the way," he inclined, "you sure you don't mind me staying here?"

Otose scoffed.

"’Course not. That idiot brought himself a pair of kids and a dog, there isn't really much an old lady like me can do about it."

"The idiot can always be kicked out, unbelievable how unaware of his place he is, for a worm living on borrowed time, all because an angel took him in." He flashed her a polite smile, hoping to have completely bought the lady by now.

"Oh, stop it, you!" 

He apparently had.

"What are you two chattering about," Gintoki said, walking towards them, apparently finally finished with the box he had been relentlessly trying (or so he called it) to fit into the closet for the past half an hour. "Better not be talking about me behind my back. I'll get lonely."

"We can start insulting you to your face if you'd prefer that," Shinsuke said. Gintoki squinted at him in turn.

"What is it, Gintoki? Something happened to your hearing, or are you trying to join the conversation smoothly?" Otose joined the bullying. Shinsuke had to admit he was starting to like the lady. "You heard us the whole time. I was just getting to know your friend, don't butt in like that."

"Is there even anything to know?" Gintoki sneered. "Pretty face is all he's got there."

"That's exactly one thing more than you do," she answered.

"How cold of you."

Shinsuke watched this exchange get further and further from the question he was originally going to ask, and decided it was about time to steer the conversation back towards it. By just asking. He cleared his throat, just to make sure he's being listened.

"Excuse me," he started. "Otose-san. What is the rent of this place?"

As he looked at them, their faces showed two completely different emotions. Surprise and consternation twisting the wrinkles on Otose's face, and the purest fear drawing all blood from Gintoki's face. He frowned. Neither was a reaction he expected. He waited a few seconds, moving his sight from Otose to Gintoki and back. 

"I simply wanted to pay my share for staying here."

"The rent..." Otose managed at last. "...Gintoki."

"...Yes?" He replied, his voice pitched.

"Do you remember what was the rent for this place?"

Silence followed.

"I mean, I remember," Otose said. "It just occured to me that the last time you paid I received a very random number, like I do every once in three months when you actually decide to pay up."

"Of course I remember the rent," his tone was now calmer, closer to normal, though there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead and Shinsuke was deeply enjoying the show.

"Then can you please tell your friend what _is_ the rent?"

Gintoki looked to the side.

"You know what, Takasugi? Takasugi, my friend? My closest buddy? My comrade? My family in everything but blood?"

"One more name and blood will be all that’s left of you." Shinsuke said.

"You don't owe us anything," Gintoki continued. "I'm entirely sure you can stay here for free, yes?" 

The look he gave him was full of desperation, a clear begging for help. Shinsuke was having none of it.

"So how much should I pay?"

Otose looked like she was about to collapse under her own weight out of happiness, he judged by her expression. Gintoki, too, seemed about to collapse - under the weight of guilt and his own sins, apparently.

He smirked, more to himself than to either of them.

"I don’t mind you taking your time to count it out carefully," he shifted a little in his space, to keep her attention with movement. "I'm not going anywhere before I regulate my part. And I'm sure this imbecile will be able to cough something up with me."

Neither his words nor smile wasn't threatening, or at least he didn't intend it to be, but he could see Gintoki recoil a little. Served him right.

Otose nodded, fanning herself with her hand. She then excused herself and left, still in a shock, into the autumn air. As soon as she was gone, he gave Gintoki a look as full of judgement as he possibly could.

"Look," Gintoki started.

"You're paying your rent the moment I'm leaving this flat, is that clear, Gintoki?"

"You do realize it's only going to motivate me to keep you here longer?" His tone wasn't challenging, quite the opposite - it seemed that he was only pointing out a fact. 

"I hope you have some work experience at keeping a corpse in your closet, because that's the only way I'll be able to spend more than two weeks with you," Shinsuke said, his voice flat.

"Actually..."

"Excuse me," a girl's voice interrupted whatever Gintoki was about to say, probably for the best. Shinsuke wasn't sure he was ready to hear a story about a corpse in his closet. He always thought the only thing in Gintoki's closet would be himself (and Kagura if he was to take the metaphor literally).

"I brought snacks from Otose-sama. Specifically for Takasugi Shinsuke-sama." The voice, and the electric edge to it was oddly familiar. The 'oddly' disappeared the moment Shinsuke leaned out through the door to see a young woman in the corridor. A robot in the shape of a young woman. A robot in the shape of a young woman who was holding a box of rice balls and sounded exactly like the one who saw him leave the Yorozuya headquarters a bit more than 24 hours earlier.

Their eyes crossed in a silent understanding. 

Gintoki looked at Shinsuke, then at the robot. Then at Shinsuke again. He frowned slightly.

"Thank you, Tama," he said, walking towards her. "I'll take those, I'm sure my _best friend_ won't mind."

As soon as Gin took the box and turned back to march with it to the table, Shinsuke stepped over to the corridor, a step closer to Tama. He waited until Gintoki was seated on the couch, looking at him the whole time, and as he was about to bite into the first rice ball, Shinsuke took a few steps in the robot's direction.

"You saw nothing," he whispered.

She cocked her head to the side. "I'm not sure what you might be referring to, Takasugi-sama." A blink. "I absolutely did not see you walking away from the house barefooted and barely standing if that's what you're asking me to forget."

He judged the situation immediately.

"I'm making him pay for two months."

"Three."

"Three."

"I saw absolutely nothing."

 

* * *

The evening was uncharacteristically warm for this part of the year. The breeze blew gently against Shinsuke's face. It felt nice. The fishes in the bag his right hand balanced nicely the watermelon in his left. He left for a short walk and stumbled upon a market - and since he had never thanked Otose for taking him in, nor the kids for helping him unpack, he decided he could as well use some of his savings to get them a fancy dinner. And probably the last watermelon in season, before they get expensive again. 

He always thought Kabuki-cho looked best at dusk, when it was waking to life. Not at night, when all the rotten parts shined the brightest (though he thought even those had their own, unique charm). Nor in the morning, when the night owls went to sleep. No, the sunset painted the barely lit neon signs in a way he never saw anywhere else. He wished he could call it home.

The walk to Yorozuya headquarters was a nice change of pace after last night's stay in a hotel. Gintoki did insist he came with him right away, but since he agreed to take _all_ of his luggage with him, Shinsuke had to hold his ground on something. The walk had brought him to Otose's snack bar, where the first customers, regulars he guessed, were assembling. He greeted her with a smile, repeated the courtesy with Tama and the remaining amanto waitress (was she a waitress?), and put one of the tunas on the counter, as a gift. He made sure to pick a big, fresh one. Food was the best gift, he had learnt from Bansai (who usually gingerly added a copy of Otsuu album to each gift, whether it was a birthday, a holiday, or, on one occasion, a wedding). Food always works. somehow.

He braced himself as he climbed the steps on the way to his current place of residence. Hopefully Shinpachi wouldn't mind preparing the tuna, since Shinsuke himself had absolutely no idea how to go about it. He wasn't a particularly bad cook, but he wasn't strikingly good either, definitely not good enough to fix up a healthy and tasty meal using a piece of a quite expensive tuna.

"Takasugi!" Kagura's voice greeted him cheerfully the moment he entered, the girl stretching out the last syllable for several seconds. 

"Me."

"See, told you he'd be back, Gin-san," he heard Shinpachi from the kitchen, mentally thanking heavens for allowing the boy to be here. Shinsuke had to admit he might have forgotten whether or not Shinpachi was going to stay for dinner. Not to anyone but himself, though. 

He promptly took off his sandals and entered the kitchen, in order to entrust the tuna in Shinpachi's capable hands. The boy looked touched, nearly teary eyed, as he took the fish into his hands.

"Takasugi-san!" He exclaimed, pure gratitude in his voice. 

Shinpachi then proceeded to walk out of the kitchen and into the living room, only to stand in the middle of it, holding the fish in the air like a spoil of war.

"Today we feast!" He yelled at Kagura and Gintoki who were both too stunned to talk at first, but soon started prostrating before the fish. They were worshipping a tuna. This was the kind of house hold he gotten himself into joining.

The smell of fried fish was something else every time he smelled it. And for some reason, Shinpachi's fried tuna smelled like home. Not his family home, nor the home he made in the Kiheitai. _He_ made it like that. And somehow just the smell of it was warmer than anything Shinsuke remembered from the past several months.

"Sugi," Kagura said, swinging her legs as she read Gintoki's last week's Jump.

He raised eyebrows at her with a questioning look from above the book he was reading.

"Your eye is red." She pointed it out in the same tone one would point out that the sky is particularly blue at the moment. He blinked a few times, then ran his fingers across his eyelid. He couldn't have been...?

Kagura observed him carefully, but said nothing. Gintoki would likely make a biting remark, if he weren't helping Shinpachi in the kitchen. The promise of a plentiful dinner (because apparently a tuna and rice counted as that) and a watermelon for late night dessert moved the hearts of the laziest men, especially of this one. Every passing second only made Shinsuke yearn for the meal even more, to the point he nearly regretted he wasn't the one helping in the kitchen. Alas, together with the fish, he had seemingly bought himself a ticket to slacking off for the rest of the evening. He couldn't say he minded that. 

The taste almost equalled the smell - almost, because one can only get so far with a simple mix like the meal before them. Still, it was enjoyable. And different. Shinsuke finally understood what Gintoki had meant by him sharing the table with his family when Kagura snatched the salt for herself and refused to let go of it, which resulted in a fight between her and Gintoki, featuring an awful lot of pushing each other and putting hands in each other's faces. Shinpachi sighed, and if Shinsuke read the flow correctly, this would be the moment he would sweep the salt for himself. The boy's hand extended towards Kagura's corner of the table in the most natural gesture, trained so well he didn't even have to look. And it was exactly that faith in his own skills at grabbing the salt from under Kagura's palm that lost him. The look of utter betrayal and defeat was worth any price, as Shinsuke sprinkled salt that he absolutely didn't need over his own fish. He then gave Shinpachi a condescending look, lifting the item he's been holding onto for the past four minutes, since Kagura and Gintoki began their wrestling.

"Would you like some?", he asked, which translated directly into: _I hope you don't mind me beating you at your own game._

"Oh, yes, thank you, Takasugi-san," Shinsuke could only imagine what the boy had really meant was something along the way of: _You might have won this battle, but I won't fall this easily_. Or not, and Shinsuke was just imagining it. He hoped he wasn't.

It was a nice evening, nothing more and nothing less. Kagura helped Shinpachi with the dishes as Gintoki sliced the watermelon. He stood in the kitchen threshold, observing with fondness. The kids were chatting about something, he wasn't sure what. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening. All he knew was that he was tired and his heart was beating faster than usual for no reason, and he needed a smoke. And sleep, probably. The smell of strawberries lingered in the back of his mind.

"Hey, Takasugi. Move, will you?" Gintoki's voice brought him back to reality. "You can carry your slice while you're at it."

A small plate with a slice of watermelon was handed to Shinsuke. A really small one, to the point where the slice barely fit on the porcelain. He then looked at Gintoki's regular-sized plate. Behind him, on the kitchen table, stood two other regular-sized plates, understandably, with two slices on each, as opposed to his and Gintoki's single slices. Some sort of spoiling the kids at night, Shinsuke guessed. Why his plate was undersized though, he couldn't grasp. All Gintoki said to his questioning look was:

"It's because you're tiny."

Takasugi then took a bite of his watermelon, still blocking the way, found a one, two, three seeds, separated them from the fruit in his mouth, and spew the seeds right into Gintoki's face. Having done that, he felt compelled to speak to Shinpachi and Kagura over Gintoki's shoulder:

"The watermelon is for the two of you, Gintoki has just lost his watermelon privileges."

That said, he was free to turn back on his heel and walk out onto the balcony and eat the fruit in the warm night breeze, on what he guessed was one of the last nights that weren't cold.

The sky was clear and the street - relatively empty. A calm, warm evening. Odd thing, really. Gintoki sure did make a house for himself in a nice place. He sighed quietly. The ruckus behind him wasn't so different from what he had on his ship, and just like back there, he still needed all the alone time he could scramble. It was easier not to talk and just admire the stars. He took another bite of watermelon and swallowed the seeds. 

He finished his slice quickly, yet the night was mesmerizing enough for him to want to stay a bit more. Where was his kiseru again? The desk, if he remembered correctly. He gave himself the tiniest nod as he pushed himself away from the handrail. The kitchen was empty when he left his plate in the sink, the Yorozuya having a heated argument in the living room. Was it about salt again, he wondered.

"Using salt on a watermelon is a profanity, it's like walking on a bubble wrap in rubber boots," Gintoki said.

Shinsuke chuckled silently as he retrieved his kiseru, together with the tobacco and a box of matches, from the surface of the desk. The smell of watermelon, fish, and the seemingly innate to the room smell of curry (he blamed Gintoki for that) mingled into one, creating unanimous, yet strangely not nauseating mixture. Shinsuke stood for a second, taking in the scene. Gintoki and his kids talking about things of little importance, a giant dog sleeping in front of the closet, warmth emanating from every single thing around him. He exhaled with fondness.

"Huh? Is something wrong, Takasugi-san?" Shinpachi asked. Has he been staring?

"No. Nothing." He answered.

As if the minute he spent in the house warmed him up more than it should, the evening air was now colder, yet still quite pleasant. He tucked the tobacco in, lit it, and inhaled, the familiar feeling in his lungs bringing his mind a very particular kind of peace. It was a miracle the stars were so bright that night. He could make out most of the constellations he still remembered. Or less than most. Several. Four, he could make out four. Probably. He snorted silently at his own bad memory. Minutes passed, yet he was far from growing bored.

He heard small sigh behind his back. When he turned his head to face the source of it, a familiar expression greeted him. One belonging to someone who remembered something they shouldn't be remembering right now. Her brother disliked making a face like that. She seemed to embrace it. And all Shinsuke could do in return was smiling with understanding. 

"Taking the dog for a walk?" He asked after a few seconds' pause, seeing Sadaharu in the corridor behind her.

"...Yes." Kagura said, snapping out of her recollection. "Yes, we're walking Shinpachi home while we're at it."

"Have a safe walk then."

"Thanks." She walked by him, trying not to look at his pose, nor at the kiseru in his hand. The dog followed, and soon Shinpachi joined them.

He caught Gintoki's sight as he stood in the doorway, a question in his eyes. Shinsuke shrugged. If she hasn't spoken about her mother herself, it wouldn't be fair if he did it.

The night was still warm.

 

* * *

 

Gin could tell Takasugi wasn't very comfortable on the couch. His face buried into the pillow, Takasugi's shoulders lifted and fell, and just seeing him breathing was somehow calming.

It was long past midnight, closer to 1 a.m. probably. Gintoki couldn't sleep. Nothing new, really. Normally he would be watching TV, trying to pass his time before he got sleepy enough to try and lie down again. This time, he was watching Takasugi. The view wasn't wonderful, but something told him he wouldn't mind dying for it. 

He asked him to share his futon, at least until he gets back the one he lent to someone long time ago, but Takasugi refused, on the basis that Gintoki would probably wake him up with his snoring (a blatant lie) or invade his personal space (he was likely right with this one, Gin was one violent sleeper). Still, he couldn't help but think that his nights would be calmer if he could wake up to this. Just him. Breathing. 

Takasugi shifted in his sleep, moonlight finally shining at his face. Gintoki didn't have Takasugi's way with words, but there weren't many adjectives he could use to describe him. Takasugi was probably one of the most beautiful people Gintoki saw in his life, followed closely by Zura (damn their pretty faces), and several other people he didn't feel like remembering at that moment. Not compared to the supermodel sleeping under his roof. 

He walked closer to the couch, and leaned over the back. The way the faint light shone on Takasugi's nose and the soft lines of his cheeks made him look peaceful, way more peaceful than Gintoki guessed he was. He could make out the small scarring on his right eyelid. The cut had been clean, but not perfect. The tiniest gap between his eyelashes confirmed it. 

Gintoki pondered. Would he wake up under the touch of his fingertips? Would he open his eye and try to stab him with the knife Gin knew Takasugi hid under his pillow? Probably. Would it be a bad way to go down? He couldn't tell. It was too late, or too early in the night. He extended his hand and with the gentlest movement, slowly, brushed a few strands of hair off Takasugi's forehead. He really was beautiful.

Gin sighed. Two weeks. He only bought himself that much. And he sure as hell would make them count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it got gay don't blame me blame Gintoki
> 
> also! sorry for not updating for a while, beginning a multi-chapter fic a day before entering the finals hell was a bad idea. Might do my best to update it by Sunday. Wouldn't count on that.
> 
> ("Takasugi." "Me." - copyright Seere.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to regret this.
> 
> Also! The infamous yato drink is based off of an actual Legendary drink that apparently has been mixed in uni dorms all across my country. Please don't try it.


End file.
